It is darkest here. Darker than it has ever been. Someone's left the shutters closed to bar the morning sun. It used to creep so gradually in through the window, stripe the carpet into brighter color. Make everything alive by waking up.

It is the most still here too. The grandfather clock the man wound every day would keep me company. It tick-tocked like the beating of a heart. Rang cheerfully the half-hour and bonged the hours like a military band.

Where are they? Where could they all have gone?